


What a Joy Such Friendship Is

by FortinbrasFTW



Series: Tumblr Prompts - Dragon Age [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Celebrations, Friendship, Fun, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortinbrasFTW/pseuds/FortinbrasFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Tumblr: varric/m!hawke platonic bros4life or Leliana/Josephine platonic</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Joy Such Friendship Is

“I have to admit,” Hawke says, leaning against the nearest stone wolf, “for a bunch Andraste-sponsored tight-asses, they throw a decent party.”

“Hey now,” Varric returns, “who are you calling a tight-ass?”

The main hall is lit from top to bottom, all candles and heraldry and everything else Hawke supposes comes along with saving the damn world. And sure, there’s Orlesian giggles around every corner and the stink of Chantry looming over it all, but the booze is good, and most of the company isn’t half bad, and the music gets better with every glass of brandy.

“So they’ve managed to pull you that deep, huh?” Hawke continues. “You’re a they not a you?”

“Gods, your grammar would make editors drown themselves, you know that?”

“What? I don’t speak pretty,” Hawke grins.

Varric sighs. “I didn’t say I was ‘they’, but they’re not all tight-asses you know. Hardly.”

“What about that one?” Hawke says, tipping his cup in the direction of Commander Rutherford, who looks as though he’s silently willing himself to become one with the flagstones underfoot.

“I mean for Andraste’s sake,” Hawke continues, “have you ever seen anything that sad? He looks like he’s prepared to run for the door the second anything not wearing armor tries to talk to him.”

“Not everyone likes parties, Hawke.”

“Alright, see, what’s that?”

Varric looks up at him. “What’s what?”

“You’re defending the solider someone forgot to wind-up properly?”

Varric can’t seem to help grinning at that.

“You’ve been spending too much time up in this damn mountain,” Hawke grumbles.

“They’re good people, Hawke. Shocking though that might be to consider.”

Varric’s almost positive that if his companion had two more drinks in him he might have actually repeated his words back to him with a mocking-tone deserving of any eight-year-old.

Varric leans back against the stonewall and takes another drink, considering the room carefully. “What’s all this anyways? Jealous?”

Hawke snorts. Then drinks. “Maybe.”

“Knew it.”

“Well alright, when was the last time we had a proper drink together.”

“Yesterday.”

“And before that?”

“What? Hell I don’t know, a week ago?”

“Exactly!” Hawke brandishes his glass at him. “A week. Between drinks. What’s that?”

Varric smiles. “Don’t worry darling. You’re still my number two girl.”

Hawke snorts into his brandy. “Comforting.”

“You could just stick around, you know,” Varric says, “what the hell else do you have going on anyways?”

“Many things. Important things. Hero business. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, no,” Varric agrees, “of course not.”

“Anyways, it’s creepy around here. Some of your new friends make me nervous.”

“Well, I know Cole surprised you in the bath that one time, but he doesn’t mean anything—” Varric starts.

“No, no, gods, I mean the ones like them,” Hawke gestures across the room. Leliana and Josephine are sharing the corner of one of the long tables, talking close with smiles spread across their cheeks. Leliana looks just as she always does, but Josephine has the distinct blush of booze on her cheeks.

“Gods only know what they’re conspiring about over there. They keep looking over here.”

“Probably swooning at your manliness. You’ve gathered quite a dashing scruff.”

Hawke glares at him quickly. “Seriously. Two women like that, close, who knows what they’re capable of.”

“Good point. From now on I say we keep all the women in separate towers. And no ravens to communicate either. Total isolation.”

“Not women,” Hawke sighs. “Spies. And diplomats. Dangerous combination. Too many ways to stab you in the back.”

“Gods,” Varric shakes his head, “you’ve been living in the woods too long. You’re going to have to come here. I have to teach you how to people again.”

“I people fine,” Hawke insists, “especially on my own.”

“If that was supposed to be bawdy I think you missed the mark.”

“What do you think they’re talking about,” Hawke says, narrowing his eyes. “They keep looking over here.”

“Probably something along the lines of, ‘what the hell is wrong with that jackass’.”

 

“I think there’s something wrong with him,” Josephine says. The wine is sweet on her tongue and more than welcome. Her favorite brand, and after all of this, she’s more than happy enough to give herself the treat.

“Some men are born glaring,” Leliana says, her small wry smile easing onto her cheeks.

“They’re rather funny aren’t that?” Josephine says, watching Varric and Hawke speak, leaned against the same statue, watching them right back. “Like characters from a children’s story.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just strange. I suppose it’s not, truly, they just make an interesting picture. I swear, I never met anyone with such interesting arrays of professions before I came here. A writer-merchant-bowman dwarf and his half-drunkered-half-champion mage companion.”

“We’re all interesting. I think that’s what happens to interesting people. They attract like magnets, opposing anything less fascinating.”

“I’m afraid I’m not one of your magnets,” Josephine says, having another drink.

“No, no, a bard turned ambassador turned councilor to the great Inquisition. Very dull indeed, Josie.”

“Just a politician,” she insists.

“And a very politic way to state it at that.”

Hawke seems to be yelling at Varric for some reason now, but Varric’s only laughing harder into his ale. Josephine smiles.

“I suppose that’s one thing all this destruction and loss manages to grow stronger than anything else.”

“What’s that?”

“Friendship.”

Leliana smiles looking across the hall. “Mmm yes, and what a joy such friendship is.”

Hawke knocks Varric’s mug from his hand, spilling ale on the dress of the closest Orlesian. Varric swipes at the back of his knees in return, sending one out from under him as Hawke spills his brandy right down a guard’s neck.

“Quite,” Josephine agrees.


End file.
